The Story

“Hello my paranormal pals! Welcome back to Dead Talk – I’m your host River Morgan and you’re listening to the only podcast with interviews that are truly a blast from the past. This is the first episode of season two, so if you’re just joining us, we are happy to have you and be sure to hit that Subscribe button in whichever app you’re listening through, as well as pop on back to season 1 because there are some real gems there, folks.

“I hope everyone had a great summer, I sure did. My partner Nell, you all know Nell, and I did a roadtrip across eleven states to hit some of her bucket list foodie spots! We were eating good, y’all. I had my favorites- shout out Mickie’s Truffle Emporium in Portland. Mickie, you and your truffle fries are SO fine. My other worth-it spot was when Nell made ya boy dress up all nice and we hit the bar of Swan, a swanky lounge in Chicago’s diamond district and let me tell you, it’s a real jewel itself. Cocktails that brought me back to life after all that driving and made us feel like we belonged among the famous and fabulous, ya know?

“Now my very favorite spot was Loretta’s Bayou Bar, and I know what y’all are thinking- River, get to the goods! And that’s where I’m headed, I promise. Loretta’s had fried alligator that would make you walk on water – and that’s just how we met our first interview of the season. That’s right, y’all, Nell told me to go on and pack the recording equipment for our trip so y’all wouldn’t miss a thing.

“So let me set the scene for you- we’re sitting fat and happy on Loretta’s patio watching the sun go down, finishing a couple plates of alligator, a pound of deeeelicious crawfish, and had just ordered a couple bags of pralines to go when I said to Nell that I got to walk a bit to settle my stomach and lick the grease off my fingers before we head back to the hotel, and she, being the perfect woman she is, adds two lagers to the bill and our lovely waitress brought them to us in koozies and points to a little path by the river warning us not to get too close to the water. I said- ‘River ain’t afraid of no river!’ And the waitress gave me a look and says ‘Where do you think we get the gator from?’ so I doubled the tip and we wandered on outta there.

“We get down to the river and I’m talking all romantical to my lady ’cause the stars are out and there’s a sweet breeze coming off that water when Nell just freezes. I start to ask what’s up and she shushes me and points out to the water. I’m thinking I’m about to have to be a hero and tackle a freaking gator to save my wife! But no- there’s a mist rolling over the river and it starts to move upwards, shifting into the form of a woman in what I thought was a fancy dress with frills all around her neck and wrists, but what we later learned at a local museum was probably a ‘work’ dress- similar to what upper and middle class ladies of the time wore on their day-to-day running around. So the mist keeps moving around her, defining her features a bit and we see she looks pretty young, got some long wavy hair flying free and an almost serene look on her face- and is staring right at Nell. I tell y’all I just about dropped the recorder in the water getting it out of my pack as fast as I could, and well- y’all excuse a bit of fumbling in this one- maybe shouldn’t of had that last beer but oh well, here we go-“

A loud gong rings out followed by wind chimes.

“cshhhrt csht“

“Ope- you got it? Is it on?”

“Yeah there goes the light- hello madam!”

Wind blows, a chorus of frogs begins.

“Ma’am, we don’t mean to disturb your evening. I’m River Morgan, and this is my lovely wife Nell.”

The wind blows again, then a soft distant voice can be heard, “Is he a good man?”

“Yes,” Nell’s voice is slightly louder but gentle, “yes, he’s a good man. You can trust him. I trust him.”

“Are you? Are you a good man?”

“Well I do my best, ma’am.”

“Then why bring her here, into the night?”

“We like taking walks after dinner. A little promenade, you might say, heh heh. I’m being careful to keep her toes far from the water, I promise. They told us about the gators.”

“The caimans will have their way with you, should they like.”

“They won’t have my Nell, no ma’am. I was wondering if I might interview you? I’m a host for a podca- for a newspaper of sorts and I would just love to ask you a couple questions. You’re just the kind of lady my readers would want to know- who you are and how you came to be here, if you don’t mind.”

“You do not fear my visage?”

“No ma’am, River has spoken with many people in your circumstances. We have met many who are gone but still here.”

The chorus of frogs abruptly stops.

“Gone?”

“She doesn’t mean offense, ma’am. Simply that we have spoken to several wonderful people who wander similar places. And we’d just like to know more about you.”

“…My story is a common one. A woman trusted a man and it was her downfall.”

“I’m awfully sorry to hear that, ma’am. May I ask your name?”

“I am Louisa Fontenot. And I will tell you my story. And then I will let the caimans have you.”

A loud gong rings out followed by wind chimes.

“How about that folks! We found ourselves a real lady of the lake! Or river, I suppose. We’ll have her story after these short messages!”

-Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea, waking nightmares, adult acne, depressed eyelids, trouble walking! Prepto-Scav is something Nell and I always make sure is packed for a road trip- you never know with today’s climate whether your adventures will bring heartburn or third-degree sunburns, so be ready for anything- with Prepto-Scav!-

-Bunker bedsores got you down? Don’t go to bed with a frown! Get Remi’s Cots- made from recycled memory foam and layered with rat-proof copper inserts to keep you comfortable and rodent-free all night long!-

-Choose BetterHealth. Mental Health assistance for anywhere, anytime. I use BetterHealth when an interview has left me feeling as wispy as my guests, and my certified assigned professional helps set me back on solid ground. Now available on most JETDS communication devices.-

“Thanks folks, now let’s dive back in with Miss Louisa Fontenot.”

The loud gong rings again, with wind chimes slowly fading away.

“Well Mrs. Fontenot-“

“Miss Fontenot. My father was of the Marseille Fontenots.”

“Miss Fontenot, I apologize. Before we get to the goods and the gators, how about you fill us in on life in your world?”

“What is it you wish to know? My family is not so different from the others.”

“How about- we just had an amazing dinner up the ways a bit, how was the food during your time?”

“Terrible’. It is not ladylike to eat the pretty sweets at dinners and parties, we are to pretend we are more interested in conversation or dance. At home, it was bland stews or plain bread and cheese as Papa believed food was for nourishment, not entertainment. Only when Papa was gone for business would Mama let Hettie cook from her own recipes. Then dinner was incroyable! Hettie could make little critters taste like spiced gold…”

Silence stretches. A lone brave toad croaks.

“I have not thought about Hettie in quite some time. She was good to me. Always kind. Tried to tell me to marry high and become the lady of my own home, stop chasing after dreams.”

“Was Hettie a sla- ow, Nell! Was she, uh, a local?”

“Yes. Our family moved here when Mama was pregnant with me, and brought on Hettie when I was born, as she was too tired to run the house on her own. I did not know life without Hettie.”

“Do you miss Hettie?”

“I do. She passed from this world a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Her daughters left magnolia blossoms on the river for me when they told me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Fontenot, I don’t understand, when they told you what?”

“That Hettie had died. They came to this river after her funeral and laid magnolias from her grave in the water so I would know. Kind girls, like their mother. Mr. River, I understand well that you, your lady, and I are of the same world yet not the same veil.”

“I didn’t realize you understood your… status. Not everyone does.”

“We all do, Mr. River. It is simply a matter of denial or acceptance.”

“And are you in denial?”

“Occasionally.”

“I see. So you mentioned Hettie tried to get you to marry a highborn gentleman? Did she have anyone in particular in mind?”

“She and my mother were in agreement that any of the local financiers or well-do merchants moving in would be practical choices, as the world was changing.”

“What was changing?”

“The war was starting, Mr. River. A smart girl married a man too wealthy to serve, but not so wealthy his land could be conscripted for the military.”

“That… does sound smart.”

“It did not keep my sisters and I from dancing with the officers at every ball. I wish it had.”

“Please, tell us why.”

“It did not take many rounds of the ballroom before I fell in love with Officer Hebert. He had steel eyes and a wide smile that made me breathless. But he did not fall in love with me.”

Another silence stretches across the lapping of the river.

“Miss Fon-“

“You see, Mr. River. Men can have what women cannot- and that is everything. A man can choose his wife yet not be limited to her. Should a woman do so, her reputation would become unsalvageable. Officer Hebert led many a lady to believe we were his choice. One hot evening, he led me out of the boiling ballroom of the Bordeaux manner, into the gardens for fresh air. Once among the topiaries, he kissed me until my heart thundered. I spent all night regaling my sisters with the taste of him and his promises of our future. The next morning he announced his engagement to Clara LeBlanc, whose father owned fifteen hundred acres.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nell’s voice cooed softly on the recording, “that must have been heartbreaking.”

“Oh I was young, so heartbreak came with more anger than my body could hold. I asked him to meet me here that very evening.”

“Here? Sorry ma’am, if you back away like that we won’t be able to record your voice so well, let me just-“

“Yes, sweet cheri. Come and hear me. I told him to meet me along this river, so I may taste his lips once more before he forever belonged to Clara. And he met me, because men are fools. He did not know I had arrived here earlier to throw chicken bones in the river, drawing the creatures near. He kissed me and I kissed him, and for just a moment I thought about simply staying there in his embrace. But I remembered his engagement and with all my fury and might, I rocked us both into the water! Oh how the caimans rushed on us, desperate for our fresh flesh! He screamed but I only laughed as they tore us apart, just as he had my heart! He wanted everything so I TOOK. EVERYTHING!”

“River- you’re too close to- RIVER!”

A splash, then several loud boney snaps resound as wicked laughter booms.

“Nell get away from the- Nell, go!”

“River, take my hand!”

“Grab the recorder!”

“RIVER! MOVE!”

The laughter fades as heavy breathing echoes over crunching leaves.

A loud gong rings out followed by wind chimes.

“Phew, how about that one, folks? I kept the last bit in so y’all remember- don’t try this at home! Not every subject is uh, polite, shall we say? Lucky for me, Nell was fast whipping that beer bottle at the first gator, stunned him enough for us to get back up the embankment. We hadn’t even realized we’d gotten so close to the water! Tricky little lady, that Louisa Fontenot. Once we got to the car, we ate the whole bag of pralines and a second one we’d meant to bring my in-laws, to settle the jitters.

“I do wish the interview hadn’t been cut short, we rarely get to talk to someone from so far back. Nell chided me for taking the bait about the officers when we could have asked about the start of the war, eased into her perspective on slavery from a French-leaning household, just gotten a bit more out of her maybe, before she set her water dogs on us! There are lot of potential interviewees in that area but not all of them want to relive what they already dealt with. We may travel there again but we may just leave them in peace.

“Still, I thought it was a good one to start the season with- get our heartbeats going! Join us next time where we talk with a gentleman who lived, or rather didn’t, through the Galveston hurricane and has some seriously stormy thoughts on it.

“Is there a spooky someone near you that you’d like us to interview? Remember to send in suggestions to deadtalkwithriver@podmail.com and we might just come see what they have to say! Thanks for listening, this has been Dead Talk! Goodnight!”

The Word

Consult: (verb) Seek information or advice from, generally someone with expertise in a particular area. (noun) An act of consulting a professional; a consultation.

After Today I am Devotion, I thought it would be interesting to see what other forms of media I could use for storytelling. Podcasts are a natural choice, as I think at this point we’ve all heard a couple or are regular subscribers. It’s also a good way for me to practice dialogue, as anyone who has been here a hot minute knows that’s something I’m working on. But it was a little difficult to decide how to write out the background sounds. I peeked around at a few other stories, in which authors had radio shows or podcasts or phone calls that made up the entirety to see how they did those little sounds. It seems there isn’t necessarily a standard but I do like some more than others. Do you have a favorite style? I think River Morgan and his Dead Talk will be a good one to come back to occasionally, find other subjects to chat with, and find out what best suits for me.

I also really like the word consult for this. It’s one I’ve had in my word-bank for a while and while there were other stories I thought maybe it would work for, I kept going back to an ancestral idea. What if we could consult someone who has already seen it all? What if we could have a therapist who has already lived their entire life and could give advice from that perspective? Pulling that thread led me to Dead Talk, where consults/interviews don’t always go as planned!

Hope you enjoyed our step into the spooky, happy reading!

–

P.S. Did you catch the easter egg from one of our other characters? 😉